


Horcruxes and their Side Effects

by Azkaabanter



Category: Drarry - Fandom, Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: 8th year, Angst, Cutting, Depression, Draco's admittedly a bit ooc, Drarry, Hermione knows what's up, Horcruxes, M/M, Possession, Quidditch, Ron just wants what's best for Harry, Ship, but hey, he's supportive af, it's for the plot so try to ignore it, maybe smut? Idk I haven't decided yet, voldemort's spirit I guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2018-11-22 10:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11378733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azkaabanter/pseuds/Azkaabanter
Summary: All Harry wanted was a normal eighth year. After all he's been through, he thought that it would be a simple enough request.But nothing's ever that easy for the Boy who Lived, is it?It starts with a tingle in his chest, and turns quickly into full-on blackouts. Between nearly killing his friends, nearly killing himself, and a new friendship with one former Death Eater, Harry has no time to do anything but worry.Because nothing good comes without a side effect, now does it?





	1. ~1~

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!!!! So, this is basically a re-upload of this fic from my fanfiction.net account. There may be slight changes beause I'm forcing myself to read the whole thing through to look for spelling and grammatical mistakes. Also, be sure to follow my tumblr @azkaabanter to make fic requests and the like. OKAY BYEEEEE!!

  
I hadn't forgotten that I had saved Draco. In fact, now that everything has started to wind down, it comes to my mind more often than usual. I don't know why I decided to go back into that fire to save him. At the time, I found it to be instinctual; a _'no man left behind_ ' instinct that brought me back to him.

Yet as I lie back on my bed at the Burrow, now in the hot month of August, I start to think it could have been something else that brought me back to him on that broomstick. Maybe it was his desperation. Maybe it was my pride. But whatever it was, it was enough to put me in the position of risking my life further by diving back in to save the white-blonde haired boy.

My thoughts are broken by the loud tramping on the stairs that I know to be Ron's. Within a few seconds he has burst into the room with a wide grin on his face.

" 'Mione's finally broken the charm on her parents. They're coming back to see her, and she wants them to meet me!" I give him a sideways look "and you too, of course." He quickly adds, his face reddening a bit. I smile.

"Brilliant Ron!" I stand up and clasp his shoulder in congratulations. "Are you nervous?" I ask him. A weird feeling rises in my chest... almost a throb.

"For some reason, I'm not!" Ron says, seemingly oblivious to my tightening grip on this shoulder. I shake my head slightly, and the feeling goes away. Odd. "I feel like, after all we've been through... well, this isn't exactly the most stressful thing that I've done." He smirks.

"That's really awesome Ron." I say, genuinely happy for him. I always knew, in the back of my mind, that Ron and Hermione would get together. I could just see it in the way they looked at each other, with wide puppy dog eyes. They were obsessed with each other, and it really was quite funny, if a bit annoying at times.

"We're meeting them after our trip to Diagon Alley. Speaking of which..." He turns to his bedside table, and picks up the single bit of parchment sitting there. He glances at it before stuffing it into his pocket, along with some sickles and knuts, and perhaps even a galleon or two. "It's about time we got on our way. We don't want to have to rush." He says. I nod, and run down the stairs, laughing as he nearly falls, the strange feeling from earlier forgotten.

When we enter the kitchen, we're greeted with the succulent smell of frying bacon and eggs, and some toast, jam, and kippers already waiting on the table.

"What's the special occasion, Mrs. Weasley?" I ask, jokingly. She smiles and puts a pitcher of pumpkin juice out in front of Ron and I, Ron's mouth visibly watering. I punch him lightly in the arm.

"Well, you two need your strength to get through all your back to school shopping!" She says, putting down her spoon and walking to Ron's side. "My ickle-ronnykin's going to be a big eighth year!" She exclaims animatedly while pinching Ron's cheek, earning a groan of annoyance from him. I stifle my laughs by stuffing a piece of toast in my mouth.

"Mum! We're only going back for our N.E.W.T.S!" Ron says, pushing his mother away.

Hogwarts, now under headmistress McGonnagall, has invited the previous year's seventh year students back to finish (and in Harry, Ron, and Hermione's case) begin their instruction. Professor McGonnagall wants to re-teach from the beginning, seeing as the curriculum was tainted by Voldemort's forces. All three gladly accepted, wanting to return to the place they fought so hard to protect.

"Hurry up and eat, now!" Mrs. Weasley pushes, and we do as we're told. "Where's Hermione?" She asks. Ron answers, his mouth full of half-chewed bacon.

"She's meeting us at The Leaky Cauldron after we finish shopping. She has family matters to attend to." He manages to say.

"Very nice people, the Grangers." She says, returning to her cooking. "Only met them briefly, but they were both very pleasant muggles." She says, respect clear in her voice. I smile as I finish eating.

After both having our fill, Ron and I trek upstairs to make sure we have everything we need.

"You know, this year's going to be hard for us... you especially." Ron says, quietly. I look at him.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well... just because... I mean, you were famous before, of course. But now... Harry, you defeated the bloody Dark Lord! You've hardly been able to leave the house all summer because of the crowds..." He says. "Everyone wants to know you, to be close to you... we don't know how it's going to affect you now..." He looks at me with concern. I return my gaze to my rucksack, trying to ignore Ron burning a hole into the back of my head. I turn to leave our room, but he grabs my shoulder, and spins me around.

"Ron." I say in a tone that tells him to drop it. But this time, it seems he doesn't want to listen.

"Don't think I don't know about your nightmares, Harry." He says, quietly. I try to turn and leave again, but he holds on harder. He flips me to face him again. "Harry, it's okay to be affected! You've faced horrors that no one could ever imagine." He runs one hand through his unruly red hair. "You've been to hell and back. It's okay to feel-"

"I'm fine." I say, cutting him off. I can't talk about it anymore.

"But Harry,-"

"Ron, drop it. If I have any problem, you'll be the first to know." I say. He finally backs off, although unhappily.

"Fine. But if you wake up screaming bloody murder one more time, I'll have to tell someone." He says, turning away. I reach out my hand to stop him.

"Wait!" I say. He turns. "I don't recall ever waking up and screaming..." I know the nightmares, and I know I scream, but I never keep screaming after I've woken up. "Am I actually awake?" I ask him.

"Well, yeah." He says, puzzled. "Your eyes are open, and you say sorry, in the same tone, every time it happens." Ron says. "You mutter some pretty freaky things after that though." He says

"What... what do I say?" I ask

"Well" he exclaims, seemingly slightly frightened. "Usually you say 'he must be killed' or 'no one is safe' and stuff like that, but you must just be having flashbacks of Vo-" he swallows. Old habits die hard for him. "Voldemort."

I nod, not wanting to show the fear that has just risen inside me. I don't remember this at all. All I remember are the dreams...


	2. ~2~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ron go to Diagon Alley, as ya do.

  
Ron and I apparate deftly out of the Burrow; both of us trying to ignore the uneasiness that followed our past conversation.

When we arrive outside the Leaky Cauldron, I put up the hood on my robes, even though it's about eighty degrees today, I'm not in the mood to be mobbed by reporters. Ron and I walk in together, shoulder to shoulder.

I tense slightly when I see a woman who looks suspiciously similar to Rita Skeeter, and quicken my pace to get past her as soon as possible. We exit through the back door, and Ron taps the bricks to reveal the secret opening to Diagon Alley.

"You know, even after all these years, that always amazes me." I say to Ron, who grins. The uneasiness is forgotten as we fall back into our similar ways.

"It never really impressed me much" he shrugs. I smirk at him.

"You also didn't go eleven years living in a cupboard under the stairs. This entrance was the first sizable bit of magic I'd ever seen." I say as we walk through.  
  
"True" he laughs heartily. "You should take off your hood. You look a bit like a death eater." He jokes. I childishly stick out my tongue.

"I don't want to be mobbed though." I say, pulling my hood farther over my face. Sweat is pouring down my face from the thick black fabric. Ron waves his hand dismissively.

"You'll be fine. It's crowded, no one will notice you." He says, reaching over and pulling my hood off. I sigh in defeat and continue along the busy cobblestone road, walking past colorful displays of candy and small magic nick-knacks and toys.

I look longingly through the window of the broom shop, the model firebolt sitting there taunting me. I lost my old firebolt whilst running from Death Eaters last year. It was the same day I lost... Hedwig. I sigh. I miss having an owl. Hedwig was as trustworthy and loyal as they come. Maybe... it's time to get another owl... though no one could ever replace Hedwig, I need to move on at some point.

"Hey Ron." I say, turning to my ginger best friend. He raises his eyebrows. I thrust a few galleons into his hands. "Can you pick up my books for me from Flourish and Blott's? I need to go get something..." I ask him. He smiles.

"Always a man of mystery, Harry Potter." He clasps my shoulder affectionately. "But, seeing as you couldn't POSSIBLY get into any trouble without me..." He winks and I laugh. "I think I can do that for you." He closes his fist around the gold.

"Meet me at Madam Malkin's in about a half hour." I say. He nods, and disappears into the crowd. I turn around, and walk towards the pet store, a goal set in mind.

Twenty minutes later, I exit the shop happily, a cheerful light grey owl hooting away in his cage. I look at him affectionately. I've decided to name him Moony, after Lupin. I'm sure when Teddy is older, he'll enjoy those stories. I set off in the same direction I came in, though now to make my way to Madam Malkin's for some new robes.

As I walk past the broom shop, yet again, now though with my new companion tweeting happily in his cage, I notice something I had missed twenty minutes ago.

I walk closer to the glass, not believing my eyes. A new broom had been made since the war, and man is it beautiful.

The broom itself is made of sleek, shiny cherry wood, and the bristles are perfectly aligned, made for speed and aerodynamically perfect; even more perfect than my old firebolt, which I didn't think was possible. I press my hand longingly against the glass, and read the ruby-toned inscription carved artfully into the top of the handle: _'Gamma Ray'_

I walk into the shop, and admire it from the other side of the glass. It's even more beautiful up close.

"Beautiful broom, isn't it." A voice says, and I spin around, much to the dismay of Moony, who hoots in protest to the sudden movement. I come face-to face with the owner of the shop, William Sentalin.

"Sorry to surprise you..." His eyes flicker to my forehead, which I've grown accustomed to nowadays. "Mr. Potter." He remains professional, which I deeply appreciate.

"No, it's fine. I just zoned out a bit, I guess." I chuckle. "But yes, that is a very beautiful broom." I say, my eyes traveling back to it in admiration.

William chuckles. "Well I'm glad you like it, because it was made for you." He says. I raise an eyebrow in question. "A very old broom maker, Shaniah Zaracowinski, came out of retirement to make this broom in celebration of your victory. She'd be glad to see you love it so." The old shop owner smiles, laugh lines visible around his mouth.

"How much for it?" I ask, suddenly.

"Hm?" He asks.

"How much for the broom?"

"Well, for you Mr. Potter,-"

"No, for everyone. I don't deserve special treatment." I say guiltily.

"That's very noble of you, Harry." William says approvingly. "We just set it out about an hour ago. Let me go into the back and check for you." He says, and walks through the back door, into what I assume to be the stock room.

I sit down in one of the spindly chairs in the shop, and stare at the broom, Moony tucking his head under his wing.

"Thinking of investing, Potter?" A voice says from behind me. I recognize it, though it's not filled with the venom I'm used to, it still has it's coldness.

"Malfoy." I say without turning around. He takes the seat next to me. I look him over.

In the few months since the battle, he seems to have aged considerably. His platinum blonde hair is longer and more unruly, and his eyes have almost a haunted look to them. He sits hunched over in the chair, trying to make himself look smaller. This is not the Malfoy I know... not the Draco who made me miserable.

"It's been a while." He smiles cruelly, and I narrow my eyes.

"Yeah. I haven't seen you since you and your Death Eater friends tried to kill me." I state. His smile fades.

"Look, Potter. I only wanted to give you a greeting. I thought maybe..." His gray eyes get a glint in them. "maybe we could try being civil to each other this year. We don't have to be friends, per say, just not enemies." He explains.

"Fine." I agree, looking away from him. He sighs.

"Well I'll be seeing you then." He spits, some of his usual venom coming out. I smile against my better judgement. I look back up as he leaves, and catch him glimpse back into the window at me.

"Yeah... I'll be seeing you." I whisper as his tall form disappears into the crowded alley on the other side of the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! K BYEEE!!


	3. ~3~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not good at chaper summaries rip

  
My eyes linger on the spot where he had been, as if I could see some residue of him being there.

"Mr. Potter!" William's excited voice startles me out of my stupor. I look down to see that I have my wand drawn, and William's excitement is now replaced with well placed fear. I sheepishly slide my wand back into my robes.

"S-sorry about that..." I say embarrassed. "reflex."

"Ah.." He says, lowering his hands, and his face changing from one of fear to one of pity. I fight my urge to cringe.

I hate the way people act as if I'm unstable around them... it makes me feel like an outsider... a criminal...

"Anyway, the broom is three hundred and sixty-nine galleons." He says. "Are you interested?" He asks, hopefully. I smile softly at his childish enthusiasm. Even as an old man, you can have that childlike wonder and innocence.... I haven't had that since I was eleven...

"Yes. I think it's about time I got a new broom." I say, smiling.

William joyously takes the broom out of the case, replicating it, and giving me not the copy, but the original, and placing the other one back into it's place on the display.

"You deserve to have the original. It was made for you." He says while busily wrapping the broom in paper. I place my galleons on the counter, and after a small goodbye, I walk out of the small shop and back into the summer heat to find Ron, with my first ever self bought broom, my new owl hooting happily, and Draco far from my mind.

I walk quickly to Madam Malkin's, realizing that I've strayed past my meeting time with Ron. Once I arrive, I find the red haired man himself, sitting in one of the waiting chairs scattered throughout the front room of the shop.

"Ah, Harry! I was wondering if you actually HAD gotten into some trouble, mate." He exclaims ominously.

"Well, actually..." I start, about to talk about my experience with Malfoy, though Ron's attention has wandered to the package and the cage in my hand.

"Woah! What'cha got there!" Ron exclaims, looking at Moony with adoration. I smile.

"Yeah, I figured it was time to stop feeling sorry for myself and get a new owl." I hold the cage up at eye level. "I've named him Moony, after Lupin." I tell him. Ron blinks and a soft grin comes to his face.

"You, little owl..." He says to the winged creature. "Have been named after a hero. AND a warewolf, which makes you even more cool." He coos. I put the cage on the floor and heft the other package into my hands. Ron's eyes widen.

"You didn't!" He exclaims excitedly, untying the cords holding the paper around the broom.

"I may have..." I scratch the back of my neck as he finishes carefully taking the paper off so that we would be able to wrap it again. His eyes widen to the size of saucers as he stares at the broom.

"When did they make a new one?" He exclaims, gingerly stroking the smooth wood.

"Apparently it was just released today." I tell him.

"Gamma Ray... Damn this thing is wicked!" He says, before taking out his wand and re-wrapping the broom. "You have to let me ride it when we get back to Hogwarts." He says hopefully. I feign thought, but then shrug.

"Okay, sure. As long as you don't go crashing it into the whomping willow." I say, causing his freckled face to turn bright red.

"Okay, which of you wants to go first?" Madam Malkin appears from behind the red silk curtain, looking between the two of us. Ron rises. She beckons him behind the curtains.

"Oh, Ron. Remind me when we're done, I have to tell you something." I call after him. He answers with an 'okay', and I'm left to my own devices while I wait for my turn. My mind wanders to Malfoy...

_-t.s-_

"BOYYYS! Hurry up! _Ginny! stop messing around get your trunk ready!_ The express leaves in _ONE HOUR!_ AND YOU BEST BE ON IT!" Mrs. Weasley yells up the stairs as Ron and I- as usual- throw our trunks together frantically.

"Wand?" Ron asks me. I pat my pocket, and the familiar holly wand is right where it should be.

"Owls?" I ask. Moony and Pig squawk simultaneously in an answer.

"Cloak?" Ron asks. I open my trunk to reveal my father's cloak (and now known to us as one of the Deathly Hallows) lying folded on top of the atrocity that are my belongings.

"Map?" He asks me. I pull out the map from a small compartment in my trunk.

"I think we're ready." I say, and we drag our trunks down the stairs. I recall yesterday and meeting Hermione's parents. It was nothing unextraordinary to me, but it was a big deal for Ron. I almost burst out laughing right in the middle of the hall when I recall Ron's constant stuttering and clumsiness. All went well in the end though, and Hermione's parents seem to really like Ron. (And me, of course). But, I remember getting that feeling in my chest... like I wanted to wrap my hands around their necks and squeeze until the lights went out...

I shake my head.

 _'Where did that come from?'_ I wonder to myself, slightly scared of my own thoughts. Ron hasn't said anything, but I can tell that I'm still waking up and saying those things, because the dream keeps getting more detailed, and more terrifying.

The ride to the station was ordinary; ministry cars, a mad rush full of red hair and freckles, and avoiding muggle eyes as we passed through platform 9 and 3/4. But, as usual, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley prevailed in getting Ron, me, and Ginny onto the train.

"Be good, dears! And RONALD WEASLEY DO NOT FORGET TO WRITE!" She screeches at her son. Ron sighs and goes to find us a compartment. "Harry dear, please don't try to get into anymore trouble." She says. "I don't think I could handle it." She says, small tears in her eyes.

"Don't worry Mrs. Weasley. I think I'm done with trouble, finally." I say, stepping into the train and waving to her and her husband on the platform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to leave a comment!! K BYEEEEE!


	4. ~4~

Being on the Hogwarts express again feels like walking into a dream. It's been two years since I last took the train, and it's almost as if I'm greeting an old friend.

As I walk past with Ron and Hermione, I can see people making room, and beckoning us to join them, to make them popular by saying that they sat with The Chosen One and his friends on the train.

As usual, we just ignored them until we found an empty compartment. As soon as I closed the door, Hermione has started spouting off questions at me.

"Harry, have the dreams been getting worse?" She asks me.

"Uhh..." I answer with.

"I knew it. Harry, you should talk to someone! Maybe a healer, or..."

"Look, Hermione," I say, and she looks at me, her train of thought forgotten. I run my hand through my already disastrous black hair. "These dreams are a part of me now. They don't even bother me..." Which is a total lie. "I know I toss and turn a little-" Ron snorts "but I just have to put the muffliato charm over my bed, and I'm fine. Nothing to worry about." I explain.

"But Harry-" Hermione starts saying, and the feeling comes back stronger than ever.

"God will you just give it a rest!" I yell at her. I have the strong urge to take out my wand and- and just say... _'Avada K-"_

I look down to see I have my wand drawn, pointing directly at her heart. Ron stands petrified on the other side of the compartment. Hermione is shaking. I drop my wand at my feet, and it clinks on the ground. The feeling subsides.

"I...I..." I start saying, but just sit down, my head in my hands, and stare at my feet.

 _'What was that?'_ I think to myself.

"H-Harry..." Ron says, and swallows harshly.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to do that, honestly. I'm just on edge... God Hermione I'm so sorry." I exclaim. She nods.

"It's okay..." She says quietly, though I can tell she's still a bit scared. Let's just say, the subject of my nightmares doesn't come up for the rest of the ride.

_-t.s-_

"First years, this way!" The loud voice of Hagrid yells out. I grin in spite of myself. The oaf nearly got himself killed last year by going with the spiders... of course I actually DID get killed by Voldemort, so I digress.

"Hagrid!" Hermione yells as she sees him. My lapse forgotten, she pulls Ron and I over to our half-giant friend.

"Ron, Hermione!" He says jovially, scooping the two of them up into a hug, and setting them down, both laughing hysterically. He looks at me, and his smile widens, though his voice softens. "Harry." He hugs me gently, carefully... as though he's afraid that if he handles me too roughly, I'll die again. I can see that Voldemort making him carry my seemingly dead body really left a mark on poor Hagrid. I pat his arm lovingly after he releases me from the hug.

"It's great to see you Hagrid." I say, a genuine smile taking up my entire face. He smiles back, before taking the large group of new first years to the boats, while Ron, Hermione and I go to the carriages, manned by thestrals that we can all see, now.

While we're about to find a carriage, I accidentally bump into someone.

"S-sorry!" I stutter, looking up into the face of... "Draco?" I say, surprised. I have no reason to be surprised; he's a student here as well. I just didn't expect to see him hanging out near a group of Gryffindors. He looks slightly taken back by the use of his first name, but quickly composes himself in classic Malfoy manner; by putting on the most self assured and haughty smirk he can produce. I can see through it though. His eyes aren't with the act.

"Watch where you're going, Potter." He says, trying to sound hateful, but his voice cracks when saying my name. He walks away, his black and green robes flowing behind him.

I stand still dumbly for a few seconds, just thinking about him, and that strange encounter, before Ron calls me back from my thoughts, and I climb into the carriage with him, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna. We all exchange greetings, and while the rest make animated conversation on the bumpy ride, I keep quiet, and think about Malfoy.

"He would be handsome if he didn't always have that bloody smirk on his face." I grumble quietly to myself.

"What was that, Harry?" Luna asks me, and all heads turn. My face turns crimson.

"Oh, nothing." I say, and they shrug it off, and start their conversation again. Jeez, when did I start thinking of Malfoy as 'handsome'?

I scratch my chest, in the exact place where the locket horcrux attached itself to my skin last year, and left a heart-shaped scar to add to my countless others.

The moment my nails put pressure on the spot, my forehead sears with a sudden pain, along with a throb over the heart-shaped mark. My hand flies to my forehead before I can stop it. I pull it away quickly, but the damage has already been done. Everyone in the carriage has silenced, and are all looking at me with expressions of fear on their faces.

"Harry..." Neville starts saying.

"What?" I ask casually, pretending that I don't notice anything wrong.

"Harry, is it-" Ginny starts, but I cut her off harshly.

"It's nothing, just a little pinprick. It happens from time to time." I say harshly.

"There's no need to get mad, man!" Ron says, putting a hand on my arm. My scar is still pained, though less so, and the throbbing in the the mark has lessened as well. A now familiar feeling finds it's way into my chest, right where the mark is, but I try to fight it. I breathe deeply, trying to relax until the feeling passes. Hermione takes it upon herself to say something.

"Something's wrong. Between the dreams, the... uh..." I can tell that she's referring to the incident on the train. "well, you know, and now your scar hurting. I think it's time-" I get angry. We have just arrived at the entrance, and I throw the door open and jump out.  
  
"I asked you to drop it, Hermione. I'm fine." I say, trying to keep my voice calm and strong. She must have seen the look on my face, because she doesn't go any further.

'What's happening to me?' I ask myself. I look up to see the familiar platinum blonde hair I've been seeing so much lately. I don't know what it is about him now, but Draco seems to be one of the only things I can use to calm these new angers. I lose sight of him, however, when I walk through the massive front door into a new year.

Soon enough, we are sitting at our house tables in the newly repaired mess hall, which looks largely the same as the old one.

"Hello, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts." Professor McGonnagall exclaims happily. "Now, after the events of last year," her eyes connect with mine. "we have decided for last year's seventh year students have the option to come back for an eighth to make up for missed time. I can see that many have taken up on that offer." She says, fondly looking around the room. "Now, it's time for MY favorite part of the first day back; the sorting." She says, and pulls out the old sorting hat and puts it out on the stool in front of fifty or so nervous looking first years. The seam opens at the rim, and the much awaited song is about to be sung.

Before it starts, I steal a glance to the Slytherin table, which is less crowded than usual. My eyes rest, once again, on Malfoy though, and I find him looking right back at me.

I turn away after that one second of eye contact, and adjust my glasses, looking, embarrassed, back to the dais.

 _"This year it's me you see_  
Not a pile of rags all ripped and dirty  
For the war has been won and evil defeated  
It's time for fun now the He has been beaten

 _Though study hard_  
Ladies and gents  
These teachers here make sure your time is well spent  
Dumbledore's wish shall be fulfilled   
And your minds broadened with strength and free-will

 _Do you reside in Gryffindor_  
Where you'll find the strong and courageous   
Though they have a softer side when they aren't faced with something dangerous

 _Perhaps you prefer Ravenclaw_  
Where the strong of mind build their stores of knowledge  
Clever, yes those Ravenclaws are   Though books and cleverness aren't the only things that fill their hearts

 _Maybe Hufflepuff is best for you_  
Where good things are what you do   
Where kindness and empathy are the key  
To making the world powerful yet happy

 _Could you belong in Slytherin_  
Where live the sly and slick  
if you find yourself here  
Your friends will truly stick   
But watch your back you could be stabbed  
Though remember that not everyone there ends up bad

 _I am the sorting hat_  
And now you've heard my song  
Heed lessons from the past  
And don't do the same things wrong  
For friendships could be tested  
And bonds must stay strong  
For challenges lie ahead  
And peacefulness won't last long."

The hat finishes, and the hall bursts into enthusiastic applause. The sorting begins with

"Corona, Elena" who is put into Hufflepuff. Then

"Sean, Delainey" who is put into Ravenclaw

"Marken, Jacob" to Slytherin

"Smathers, Pierre" to Hufflepuff

"Gray, Thalia" to Gryffindor

And so on. But all I can think about through the din of clapping and shouting is the sorting hat's words;

"And peacefulness won't last long"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! (By the way that sorting song is the only thing I've ever done with my life and I am so proud of it) Don't forget to comment! K BYEEE!!


	5. ~5~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen

The feast is the grandest I've seen, and the mood happier than its been since my first year. Finally, we can enjoy our school year without the threat of Voldemort hanging over our heads.

I eat madly, stuffing anything I can get my hands on into my mouth. I let all woes leave my mind as I make conversation with my old friends, but it's hard to do with people swarming you to get an autograph or sit next to you. Eventually the crowd gets that they won't get anything, and disperse.

"So, Harry." Seamus says. I turn to face him. "How was your summer? I heard you hardly left the house." I give him a breathy laugh.

"I'm not very fond of being tailed by reporters and crazed fans, yah know?" I tell him. He grins and ruffles his hair.

"Understandable. Even Dean and I had a reporter or fan coming after us at times." He says. I nod in recognition.

"How did you handle it, all these years?" Neville pipes up, a smile on his roundish face. I shrug.

"Just know who your friends are." I say dismissively. Ron wraps his arm over my shoulders.

"Yeah, but the stress is getting to you, mate. Just kick back this year." He says it to be nonchalant, but I can hear the undertones of his plead with me to get better.

I don't know what happened in Ron's room, or on the train, but I know it isn't good. Hopefully it will go away now that I'm in Hogwarts. All I have to do is remember to cast the muffliato charm over my bed at night, as to not wake up my friends with my screaming and thrashing.

The nightmares are the worst of it. It's nearly as bad, if not worse than the ones I got in my fifth year.

"Harry!" Hermione snaps her fingers under my nose, bringing me back to the real world.

"Hm? Oh, sorry. I guess I'm just tired from the trip" I laugh sheepishly, and the rest of my friends grin and make comments like 'I know what that's like'

But, absentminded as I am, I make the mistake of saying "I haven't been sleeping either, so that doesn't help." I regret it as soon as I say it. I've been sleeping the absolute least amount possible to keep the nightmares at bay. It's all I can do for now.

My friends have fallen silent, so the rest of the table falls silent wondering what's going on. That starts a chain reaction, and soon no one is talking at all; the Great Hall is silent. Some whispers of 'what's going on' are pretty much all that's heard. I blush under hundreds of eyes, all trained on me, even though no one really knows that it's my fault; it's probably just instinct to look at me when strange things happen.

"Has something happened?" Professor McGonnagall asks. There are murmurs of 'no' and 'I don't know' to answer her. "Well then, carry on." She says, and people start talking again, though a bit more hastily, wanting to know what had happened.

I steal another glance at the Slytherin table, and find Malfoy still staring at me. Our eyes lock, he smiles and turns around, back to his friends. I find myself grinning despite the situation I'm in. I turn back to my friends, who are also staring at me. But their stares don't make me smile.

"You haven't been sleeping?" Hermione asks, shocked. I shrug.

"I mean, I have been, just not a lot." I answer dismissively, taking a bite of the treacle tart lain in front of me.

"Mate, you need to sleep. It'll put your life back to normal." Ron says, and my anger flares. The now familiar throbbing in my chest returns, though I try to fight it.

'You have no reason to be mad. They just care' I think to myself. The anger subsides. When I come back to focus, I find my hand grasping my wand in my pocket, but it hasn't been drawn. My friends look shaken. I take a deep breath, and stand up.

"I think I'm going to bed. Ron, what's the password?" I ask him, tiredly.

"Devil's Snare." He says quietly. I nod to him, say a quick farewell to the rest of my stricken Gryffindor friends, and set off to the Gryffindor common room.

Just as I'm leaving, out of the corner of my eye, I see Malfoy looking at me again. I turn his way, smirk, and walk out.

Walking through the rebuilt halls of the school is exactly the same as it was walking through before. It was fixed exactly as it was originally, though with the absence of a few paintings and the presence of some new ones. While climbing the stairs, I'm shocked to see a painting of myself on the wall.

The painting me smiles at the real me from the setting, which looks to be the Forbidden Forest. I smile, and walk past.

"Devil's Snare" I say to the fat lady when I arrive at the entrance to the common room. She smiles in her frame, before swinging open to reveal the cozy common room, with a bright fire and cozy armchairs. I take my place in my favorite armchair, close to the flames, and put my head in my hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!!


	6. ~6~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little possession action here *wink*

_'There's something seriously wrong with me.'_ I think, my hands digging into my hair.

 My breaths are ragged and frantic. The feeling is getting stronger and more frequent. I don't know what to do. It's almost like a second heartbeat throbbing in my chest, painfully. I don't know any other way to describe it. It makes me feel crazy, out of control...

 Rain thumps against the thick glass of the tower window, and the fire gives a weak comfort to me as I struggle mentally.

 _'What could it be? What could be DOING this to me?'_ My thoughts roam the possibilities, each new idea more unlikely than the last.

 A hand finds it's way over the heart shaped scar on my chest, running over it gently. Slight tingling is felt as my hand passes over it, even with my thick robes and shirt in between.

 Tears prick the back of my eyes, but I fight to push them away. I wasn't supposed to have to go through more. It was supposed to end when I killed Voldemort. He- Dumbledore... He _promised_ me I wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

 My anger flares, and I punch the table on my left, breaking the wood a bit, and getting a gash in my fist. Blood runs down my hand, wrist and arm, before dripping onto my robes. I want to scream; I want to scream more then I have ever in my life...

 So I do.

 I scream in anger, letting all my pent up aggression out in the sound, ripping from my throat and permeating the air, bouncing of the freezing walls.

 I take gasping breaths after the scream is over; It seems to echo in the common room, bouncing and reflecting off of every surface. The sound of voices fills my ears from the other side of the portrait. I stare into the fire, taking my hand from my chest, and laying it in my lap.

"Harry!" Ron says, walking briskly to my side. His face is concerned, so I force what I hope to be reassuring smile.

"What's up?" I ask him, trying to hide my pain and fright, but I obviously don't do a very good job of it. Hermione joins Ron at my side.

"Harry we're worried. Really worried." Hermione places her hand on top of mine. As soon as her skin touches mine, I start shaking. The edges of my vision are turning black, and can feel it coming on, stronger than before.

"Run." I try to yell it, but it comes out as more of a strangled whisper. The place where Hermione's hand lies is burning.

"What?" Ron says, leaning closer to me. I lean away, gasping for air and trying to clear my head. The black in my vision is turning into a crimson, and my hands clench into fists, my fingernails digging crescent shapes into my skin. Breaths leave my mouth in frantic gasps, but a I try to stand and get away, I find myself glued to the spot.

"Get back." I say as loudly as I can. I can feel Hermione take her hand off of mine, but Ron hasn't moved. I look at him, my vision almost enveloped completely in the blood color. I can't get up, I can't move. I bite my lip so hard I draw blood. My chest is throbbing. I can feel myself shaking.

"GET BACK!" I roar, and suddenly, I can't see anything.

I can vaguely feel myself moving, and hands on me. I try to fight the feeling in my chest, and get back to the real world. It takes all my strength, but my vision starts to return to normal. I don't know how long it's been, it could have been hours, it could have been seconds, but when I can finally see again, I wish I couldn't.

I've made my way across the room somehow, and about six other Gryffindors have their hands on me, holding me back. My wand arm is outstretched, and Ron lays in a heap on the opposite side of the room.

My eyes widen, and I drop my wand to the floor with a clatter. The hands don't loosen their hold on my robes. Hermione slowly makes her way back into my vision, her eyes wide with fear. Her wand is pointing at me.

"H-Harry?... Is it you?" She asks cautiously.

"W-what? R-Ron..." I stutter, knowing what happened to Ron was undoubtably my fault, but since he's not moving... what if I....

"He's not dead. You just stunned him." She says, not lowering her wand. She signals to the people holding me to let me go. Four of the people holding me are Neville, Dean, Ginny and Seamus. When I make no move to attack her, Hermione slowly lowers her wand. She walks towards me.

"You tried to kill him. You used the Avada Kedavra." Neville says.

"If Ginny didn't knock your wand arm, he would be dead." Dean says, a mixture of fear and... something I can't quite place in his voice.

My throat is dry. I can't speak. My mouth moves, but no sound comes out. Hermione steps toward me, obviously about to hug me. I stumble away, afraid of hurting her.

"Harry, we know that wasn't you..." She says, holding out a hand to grab my robes. I shake my head spastically, and back to the portrait hole.

In one movement, I scoop up my discarded wand, and run out the portrait hole, my friends yelling after me, some even persuing me, but I run through the maze of passageways until I can no longer hear footsteps behind me.

I find a hallway, and decide it's time to stop. And so I do.

I stop.

My back slides down the wall.

I throw my wand.

I cry.

And I know I deserve what I've gotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to comment and make me smile!!!


	7. ~7~

 I sit hunched in the dark hallway, tears running freely down my face, my wand discarded to the opposite side of the corridor.

 My sobs echo from the stone, but I don't care if anyone hears me. I wouldn't care if I got struck down this very second by a death eater...

 "Hello?" A voice calls out, and I try to quiet my sobs, and calm my frantic breathing, and I reach under my glasses to wipe my eyes. I grab my wand, though I don't want to, and hold it, pointing in the direction the voice came from.

 I sit back down after it had been a while since I heard anything, and lay my wand beside me. My tears start rolling again. My cries grow so loud that I don't even hear the gentle footsteps approaching me, until a pale hand rests on my shaking shoulder. I look up, though my eyes are blurred with tears, into the concerned face of Draco Malfoy.

 "Harry? What's happened?" He asks gently. I don't know him to have ever been this caring, especially about me.

 "Wh-why do you care?" I say between shuddering sobs. He sits next to me and rubs calming circles into my back. It instantly relaxes me. I look back at him questioningly "Why are you even out here?"

 "Just couldn't sleep." He says quietly. "Walking around calms me down... I heard you, and I just thought..." He trails off.

 "Why did you come to help me?" I ask him, choking on air.

 "I've changed a little, Potter." He smirks, though it's not meant to be mean; it's meant to be humorous. I lean into his side subconsciously, but he allows it, still rubbing my back. "I know I have no right to have your trust... I just thought-" He says, so hushed I can hardly hear it as he breathes the words into my ear. I cut him off.

 "No, I need to say this to someone who won't immediately jump to the conclusion that I'm mentally unstable." I say, looking into his clear grey eyes.

 "Then talk away." He says, quietly. I turn my face to the moonlit corridor, and start telling him.

 "I've been getting a feeling in my chest, like I want to hurt people. Or... or kill them." My voice cracks, but he doesn't interrupt. "I black out a bit, stuck in my thoughts, but when I come back to attention in the real world, I'm in a position to kill someone." I turn to face him. "I almost used the killing curse on Hermione, Draco." I say, just realizing the magnitude of the conclusion. "I-I stunned Ron... I almost hit him with the killing curse as well." My voice cracks. He nods, a silent gesture that I can continue. "Then... I have these dreams... nightmares. Worse than when I was dreaming into Voldemort's mind." I tell him.

 "There's something going on that I don't understand. I just couldn't... I just CAN'T bare to hurt anyone... not after all the pain I've caused... not after all the lives I've ruined, and the families I've torn apart..." I finish. Tears are running freely down my face. Draco reaches up a thumb and wipes them away from under my left eye. His stone colored eyes lock onto mine, and he pulls me close, wrapping his arms protectively around me, all without saying a word.

 But the thing is, he doesn't have to. I know he cares. I don't know why, and I don't know how, but he cares. And I'm grateful for this. For him.

 He presses his lips to my forehead in an obvious act of comfort. Warmth blooms from the place where his lips meet my skin.

 As we sit huddled against the cold wall in this deserted corridor, in the middle of the night, I realize that for the first time in weeks, I haven't had traces of the mysterious feeling plaguing me. I've just been mentally freed, even if for only a few minutes.

 I look at Draco's face. A face that I, never in a thousand years, would think to bring me back from the brink.

But it did.

_-t.s-_

 Over the next few weeks though, nothing changes between Malfo- I mean, Draco and I. I expect him to at least make some shrewd comment about what happened, if not being nice, but he doesn't say anything about it. It's almost as if to him, it didn't mean anything.

 But it meant all too much to me.

 All too much lately, since the incident, my thoughts wander to his blond hair, or my eyes find him in classes or during meals. It's quite annoying actually. There are only about four things I think about nowadays. My mysterious affliction, my studies, keeping my friends from finding out about said affliction, and Draco Malfoy.

 After taking literally days to convince my friends that I had gone to Madam Pomfrey when I had run out that night to get a cure and that I was fine now ( _which was obviously untrue_ ), it had taken all my willpower not to let the feeling overtake me again.

 So as I sit in the library now, with a book of curses and their side effects lain in front of me, I wonder if maybe it was a side affect. A side affect of dying, I mean.

 What if this is the price I have to pay.

 I groan and bury my hands in my inky locks.

 "I wish Dumbledore had mentioned that." I say, laughing quietly to myself.

 "You know it's not a good idea to talk to yourself, Potter." A voice says from behind me. I turn around to meet the pale complexion of the man who has been plaguing my thoughts so much lately. He takes the seat next to me. "People might think you're crazy." He says with a small smile.

 An unneeded grin makes its way onto my face.

 "Apparently I am crazier than they thought. Sane people don't usually blackout and nearly kill their best friends." I say, the smile melting from my face. Draco's hand brushes lightly over mine, before moving it to reside on the cherry table.

 "Look, I've been thinking about what you've told me..." He says. I stare at him in disbelief. I didn't think he'd ponder it. "And I think it may be something more than a simple curse." He says, gesturing the the open book in front of me.

 I smirk slightly. "Yeah I kinda guessed that." He laughs breathily, and my breath hitches in my throat. I silently curse myself for it. He stands up, and puts out his hand. I look up at him, questioningly.

 "You know, I think you need a distraction. Maybe go for a fly?" He suggests. I ponder it.

 Maybe flying would make me feel better. I haven't touched my new broom yet this year, and it would be a good idea to practice before resuming my position as captain.

 "Yeah, that... actually sounds great." I say, taking his hand. His skin is smooth except for a callous here and there. As he helps me to my feet, part of his tattoo peeks out from his sleeve. He pulls the sleeve down over it quickly though, a blush rising on his cheeks as we walk out of the library.

 After all he's done for me this year, I've forgotten that he had been a Death Eater. Someone trying to kill me for seven years. That tattoo will always be with him, much like the scar on my forehead.

 As we walk to the quidditch pitch together, I think of all we actually have in common. My eyes find themselves looking at his pale hands, and wishing I could hold them again.


	8. ~8~

 The walk down to the quidditch pitch was, for lack of better words, awkward as hell. My feelings of gratitude and happiness now replaced by dread.

 _'What am I thinking?'_  A million thoughts burn in my head. ' _Flying? With Draco Malfoy?'_ I shake my head a bit, Draco's arm brushing against mine. I can feel him look at me once in a while, but by the time we actually reach the broom shed, he's flat-out staring at me.

 "What?" I ask, my voice not as strong as I want it to be. Draco smiles, not smirks, but actually smiles.

 "You better stop being so depressed Potter, or my father will hear about this." He says, trying to say the words monotone, but completely failing and ending up trying to staunch his laughter.

 "I...." I fade out. "I- I..." I can't hold it together anymore.

 I start hysterically laughing, falling to the ground outside the broom shed, clutching my sides. It's the first time I've had a good laugh in weeks, and it honestly is the best feeling.

 "There he is." Draco says softly. His grey eyes glisten in the soft pink light of the sunset. A small smile lingers on my face as I open the door to the broom shed.

 We each grab our brooms, (mine, a ' _Gamma Ray_ ', his, a ' _Nimbus 2001_ ') and walk out onto the perfectly manicured pitch. I sit down in the middle of the field, placing my glorious broom beside me, as Draco mounts his own. He looks at me, as if he's confused.

 "What is it, Potter?" He asks me, a small tinge of his usual snark easily distinguished in his voice.

 I lay back, savoring the soft scent of the magically-cut grass, and the softness of its' blades.

 "Why do they call these-" I pluck out a few individual pieces of the grass, and hold them up above my face. "blades? They're hardly sharp..." I say, softly. Draco dismounts and walks over to me, discarding his broom off near mine. He crouches by my side, elbows resting on his parted knees.

 "Dunno, Potter..." He gives a breathy laugh. "I don't know a lot of things..." He trails off. Once again his shirt sleeve is pushed up to reveal at least a third of his Dark Mark. The snake-tongue and the jaw of the skull are just visible.

 I absentmindedly reach up, running my fingers carefully over the mark, causing Draco to jump a bit. He pulls his sleeve back down, but that does nothing to deter my question.

 "What was it like? You know..." He's regained his guarded look. "a Death Eater?" I finish asking, though I'm aware I couldn't possibly get an answer.

 He runs his hand through his neat blonde hair, causing flyaways to pop up and strands to fall into his eyes. The sad, grey eyed boy huffs out a breath, standing up.

 "That doesn't matter. What matters right now, is you." He tries to loosen up, but I can tell he won't be as relaxed, now that I've asked such a question.

 "I-I'm sorry, Draco-" I start, but he holds up a hand to silence me.

 "It's fine. I'm fine." He says, brushing off my apology. "But you, however, are not as fine as me-" He says.

 _'You can say that again.'_ I think to myself. I shake my head lightly.

 _'What are you thinking, Harry?'_ I ask myself as Draco continues to talk.

 "-I brought you out here to clear your mind, to make your life less..." He looks me in the eye "painful. At least, give you a break from those near possessions. So it's time to get in the air." He says, taking my arm, and pulling me to my feet.

 I stagger over to my broom, waking almost like Viktor Krum. I sloppily mount, and kick off, the acceleration taking me high above Malfoy and the rest of the pitch in seconds.

 Flying higher and higher away from the safety of the ground, I let the comforting feeling of the cool air brush over my face. I breathe a deep breath of the untouched, pristine perfection that only exists at this height.

 A green and black dot far below is all I can see of Draco at this point. I smile down, but then grimace.

 _'Potter, pull it together. He could  still be your enemy, even if he did help you.'_ I think to myself, clenching my teeth.

 I close my eyes to get back to my feeling of heightened bliss, but when I open my eyes again, I don't see a dusty pink turning to navy.

 I see him.

 I see them all.

 Their bodies, all lined up in front of me.

 And then there's Voldemort, walking up and down the rows of my dead relatives and friends, before stopping in front of Sirius's limp form. He smiles cruelly, before turning to face me, his red eyes as bright as they were before I destroyed him.

 "Harry Potter. It's been a while, hasn't it." He says to me, the voice chilling me to the bone.

 "I-I..." I stutter, it's all too real. But he's dead.

 I killed him.

 He's supposed to be gone.

 "Surprised? I don't think you should be..." He walks closer to me, in the the scene I've found myself trapped in, once again. "I always find a way back." I can't feel where my broomstick should be. I feel like I'm floating in this room of the dead.

 It's really just a grey rectangle, nothing more.

 I'm hyperventilating. My scar sears with pain, and the scar over my heart throbs in time with the pumping of my blood.

 I close my eyes, and put the heels of my hands in the sockets.

 My dream... my nightmare. Only now, when his reptilian hand reaches out to touch me, I don't wake up in a cold sweat and screams, like usual.

 This time, I can feel the soul sucking coldness of his hand on my skin.

 "You think you've won." He almost snorts, but it comes out as more of a ' _humph_ '. "Your mind is a fragile place, Harry. Almost like a..." He snaps his fingers, and a thorny rose appears in his white hand. "delicate rose." He tuts, and walks around me, my body frozen in shock and fright. Voldemort drags the rose stem over my exposed skin, pushing it hard until the thorns cut deeply in, and pulling it all the way up my arm.

 I try to flinch away, but I find myself stuck. When he pulls the stem from my skin, bright red blood drips down onto his hand and down his palm, greatly contrasting his snow-shaded skin.

 "Being myself, I've found a way to make you a..." He drags off, stepping over the bodies of everyone who died for me, his robes dragging over them. My shock is taken by anger. "pawn of sorts..."

 "Get out of my head. Get out of my life." I say, my fists now clenched and shaking with anger.

 "Oh, you don't like my company?" He makes a faux disappointed look. "Then I guess I'll just..." He puts a finger on my chest. "let you go..." He pushes me backward, and I find myself falling back into reality.

 "Remember Harry. I'll always be a part of you..." His voice fades away, and I find myself falling through the air in the real world.


	9. ~9~

 My green eyes snap open after Voldemort's final words. The wind whistles wildly in my ears, and my eyes water from the cold air.

 I don't have time to register what had just happened moments ago, because the ground is hurtling towards me, and I left my wand in my bag, not thinking I would need it.

 I close my eyes, and take a deep breath.

 In.

 Out.

  _This is NOT how I die..._

 "HARRY!" A voice calls, and my eyes snap back open. I'm now about seventy feet above the ground, but turning my head against the wind I can see Draco zooming toward me. My broom is hovering just above the ground; the built in safety features stopping it from colliding with the grass below.

 "Draco!" I yell in fear, the ground getting scarily close, before landing harshly in between Draco's legs on the thin wooden broomstick.

 I take deep gasping breaths as Draco wraps his arms tightly around my midsection to grip the handle of the broom. Flying slowly to the ground, I can feel Draco's heart thumping hard and fast against my back.

 "Are you okay?" He asks me, right into my ear, his warm breath blowing the small hairs around it. I swallow hard, and nod, my glasses sliding slightly down my sweaty nose.

 We land in the near darkness, Draco climbing off, and then me. I walk to my hovering broom, and snatch it out of the air. Suddenly, I'm encompassed with a feeling of... intense anger.

 I turn around to face the silvery blonde, who is staring at me with an unreadable look on his face. I walk over to him, pushing a finger into his chest. He raises an eyebrow, but does nothing else in reaction.

 "What was that? A joke?" I almost yell at him. His face contorts in confusion.

 "What?" I take my finger from his chest, and run my hand through my hair.

 "That... that vision. Did you think that would help me?" I start pacing. "Do you think whatever is happening to me is funny? I sure as hell don't, considering I almost killed my friends because of it. Or maybe it's to remind me of the war, with all those dead bodies." Anger is appearing on his face.

 "I don't know what you're talking about!" He yells at me, clenching his fists in anger. His silver eyes flash, and he clenches his jaw.

 "This is what I get for trusting a Malfoy..." I say more quietly, though still loudly enough that he's able to hear me. I sit on the ground, and put my head in my hands, pulling the strands of hair at my hairline.

 "Don't y-" he starts, but cuts off as I interrupt him.

 "Am I not broken enough?" I ask. Not really to him, but more to the world. Draco stays silent, only his breathing able to be heard. Tears fill my eyes, but I will myself not to cry. I don't cry in front of people. I can't let Draco Malfoy see me break down twice. "Y-you know, maybe this is what I get. Maybe I should have taken his offer. Maybe I should've gotten on that train with Dumbledore-" my voice cracks as I try to fight going to hysterics. I can feel the warm presence of the guy I thought I was mad at by my side, his arms wrapping around my shoulder. I continue with a shuddering breath, this whole speech now turning into a vent. "God, maybe I should have just..." Tears threaten to fall down my red cheeks. "died."

 "No... Potter... _Harry_." Draco says, though all I hear is more of an echo. His hands are in my hair, weaving in and out of the strands. I look at him, and my anger returns. I shake off his hand and arm, and stand up, refusing to let the tears fall.

 "I-I... no." I turn and face him, his eyes shining with emotion. "A Death Eater could never understand what it's like. To... to black out, and come to moments later to find you've almost killed someone, or open your eyes again and not see the real world, but see everyone who died so that YOU could live, and your worst enemy taunting you..." I start to walk away.

 "Harry, look-" Draco starts, but I've already begun leaving, broom in hand, heading to the bleachers to retrieve my wand.

 "This was a stupid idea." I mutter, halfway across the pitch.

 _'I thought I could trust him. I can't trust anyone.'_ I think to myself, old tears drying up.

 "HARRY POTTER, WILL YOU STOP BEING SUCH A GIT AND LISTEN!" Draco yells, marching over and grabbing me by the wrist, his fingers perfectly closing around it. Feelings of calm and warmth emanate from the place where is hand touches my skin. I try to shake him off, but his grip is as steely as the color of his eyes.

 "What?" I ask, irritably.

 "You aren't the only one who's lost things." Draco says, his eyes blazing. "Sure, your losses are different, more extreme, but I've had problems too. Taunting and hatred from the Wizarding community. My family name has no respect. My mother and father are in Azkaban..." His hand is still firmly locked around my wrist. He steps closer, leaving just inches between our faces. A cool wind ruffles our robes, and the sound of crickets fills my ears. "He was going to kill us Harry." My eyes snap back up to his face, eyes brimming with tears. "My entire family, if I didn't at least TRY to kill Dumbledore. If I didn't at least TRY to kill you." I can feel his breath on my mouth, and my vision flicks, for just a second, down to his pink lips.

 _'NO HARRY. You were just mad at him. He's a Death Eater. He's your worst enemy...'_ Those thoughts, and about a thousand more like them enter my mind, but I still find myself leaning ever-so-much closer to Draco. Draco and his strength. Draco and his calm. Draco and his... Draco and his _lips_.

 Malfoy has stalled his speech, looking at me hard. He seems to finally realize the predicament we're in. His pale cheeks start to burn a tantalizing pink, but he makes no move to back away. I open my mouth to speak.

 "Then... maybe we could try to understand each other." I nearly whisper, and start to lean in, against my better judgement. Inches apart... centimeters...

 "HARRY!?!?" A voice screams, and I take a step back, startled. Draco looks startled too, and maybe... disappointed? I take my arm out of Draco's grip.

  _'Oh my god. I almost kissed Draco bloody Malfoy.'_ I think frantically, as I search for the source of the voice.

 In the darkness, it takes me a second to recognize Ron running down the hill to the pitch. I turn to look at Draco, but he's disappeared into the darkness.

 Soon enough, a panting Ron is at my side, a dorky smile on his freckle-covered face.

 "I was looking for ya, mate. I thought I'd find you here. You never could study for long periods of time-" he laughs, elbowing me lightly in the ribs. I crack a small smile, my mind racing. He starts walking away, beckoning to me to join him. "Come on. You'll miss dinner." He says, and starts hiking back up the pitch.

 "Yeah, I'll be there in a second." I call after him.

 I re-collect my broom, and grab my wand from the bleachers. I journey to the broom shed, and open the door to put my broom in my locker.

 I say my password, and it opens, but a note falls out. Confused, I put my broom away, and pick up the note. On it is one word, in Draco's messy scrawl that I know so well from our various shared classes.

_'Maybe'_


	10. Chapter 10

  
"So, how were flying conditions?" Ron asks me, shoveling a heaping fork of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"Fine, I guess." I reply, the secret of my vision pulling me down. Draco's note feels like lead in my pocket, instead of paper. The ghost of his arms around my waist lingers, and my throat is raw from our argument.

' _He's still the same Draco._ ' I think to myself, unsure if that's a good or bad thing. I don't give in to my impulse to turn toward the Slytherin table and look at him.

I put my fork down, and put my head in my hands.

"Ugh." I groan, my thoughts pulling me down. I could really use some relief...

"What's up, Harry?" Hermione greets me as she sets her books down on the other side of me. "Hey Ron." She shoots a flirtatious wink at her boyfriend, who rolls his eyes, and blushes none the less.

"Not much..." I reply, pushing my still full plate away from me. Ron eyes me suspiciously.

"Harry, you've hardly eaten in days. Put that in your mouth before I hold you against the floor and shove every forkful down your throat." Ron says angrily. My eyes widen in surprise. Usually it's Hermione pressuring me into eating.

The buzz rises over my heart. I refuse to have another attack... not when they think I'm better...

I turn around and my eyes search frantically for Draco, before locking onto him. The buzzing diminishes, and I turn back to a confused Ron and Hermione.

"I thought I heard someone calling out to me." I lie, and they nod, looks of concern partially leaving their faces.

I give in a little to Ron's command, putting a forkful of steak into my mouth. It tastes and feels to me like rubber.

"There, I ate." I say, getting off of the bench.

"That doesn't count-" Ron starts, but I start walking away.

"Yeah it does." I say, turning to him and walking backwards down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables. "I'll see you back at the common room." I say, turning around, and jogging out of the hall.

I pant as I run up the endless stairs to the seventh floor. My arms are buzzing with a hunger for relief, almost as if thousands of tiny insects are crawling beneath my skin, and I need to get them out.

I scratch my left arm hard, my nails breaking the skin a small bit, but not nearly enough.

"Devil's Snare." I say quickly, averting my eyes from the Fat Lady's painted on eyes.

I run through the hole and into the empty common room, up the stairs and into my dorm. I swing open my trunk and search desperately for my blade, finding it at the bottom of my trunk. I slam the lid down, and run into the bathroom.

Using all the locking charms I can think of, I seal myself into a room of white tile and steam. And of course, secrets. The biggest secret of The Boy Who Lived. One so secret that not even Ron and Hermione know about it. I cut.

I, Harry Potter, cut.

I have since my fifth year. I know how wrong it is. I know how bad it is. But I just can't stop. I roll up my sleeve, and take the blade to my already patchworked skin. I could make the scars go away, simple as that, but that would be just a lie.

A lie to myself. Making me pretend that nothing is wrong, that using my own blood and pain as a pensive is okay.

With all the thoughts of my breakdowns, blackouts, visions, and... Draco... piling up in my head, I find my mind a little full.

So I spill my blood. I spill the thoughts. But just like with a real pensive, the ghost of the thought is still there. When you come back to see it again, telling yourself that it's the last time, it gets worse.

I add just four more cuts, as shallow as I can make them, to my collection. Blood trickles lightly down my arm in small, thin streams. I pull up my robes further, seeing the path carved into my flesh by the thorns of Voldemort's rose.

"Scourgify." I whisper, pointing my wand at my wounds and the switchblade, cleaning each of blood. I pocket the blade, take off the charms on the door, and walk back out into the dorm.

I find Ron sitting comfortably on his bed, re-reading my copy of 'Flying With Cannons' with peaked interest. I nervously tug the sleeves of my robes down farther, as if Ron may be able to see through them.

"You missed a big fight, man." Ron says suddenly, laying the book at his side and crossing his legs on the comforter.

"I left three quarters of the way through dinner!" I say, sitting on the edge of my bed facing Ron, any nervousness forgotten.

"It was about a minute after you left, actually." He says, his eyes bright with mischief.

"Well, details." I say to him. He laughs.

"Okay, okay! Well, it was between Draco Malfoy and Goyle." He says. My eyes widen. Draco? In a fight with someone OTHER than me? "Goyle showed Draco a picture of something, then Malfoy's face got really pale and he took it, roped it up, and started yelling at Goyle. Since we're obviously on the opposite side of the hall," He starts adding Han motions. "I didn't hear much. I heard some "you shouldn't have even been there!" And some "what's wrong with you!s" Ron says, a smile on his face. "Needless to say it took Hagrid to pull them apart once they got at it. It was kinda frightening, actually. They aren't exactly kids anymore." He laughs, dropping his head back into his pillows. "Then again, neither are we." He says.

"Yeah..." I agree, turning my back to Ron and changing into a long sleeved shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, careful to keep my arms from view. I flop onto my bed, crawling under my covers and closing my eyes. "Night Ron." I say to him. All I hear are gentle snores in return. I smirk. It's almost scary how fast that boy manages to fall asleep.

I let my head fall to my soft pillow, letting the full throb in my arms take over my other senses.

I shut my eyes contently, an image of Draco's gray eyes coming to my mind, just as I'm falling asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

I know it's going to be a bad night when I open my eyes to see soft moonlight filtering through impossibly tall trees instead of a stone ceiling, and feel sticks and leaves instead of smooth cloth beneath my fingers.

I know it's going to be a bad night when I hear the high, cold voice of Voldemort, and the shrieking laughter of Bellatrix.

I know it's going to be a bad night when I feel Narcissa Malfoy's fingers creeping up my shirt.

" _Dead_." She says, scraping her nails along my chest after our brief exchange about Draco.

Every time I have this dream, some new horror is revealed. It's been a month since I've had it, but it feels just as real as it did during the war, and every dream after.

Like pure, undiluted terror stinging my veins as it's forced through along with ice cold blood.

A trip through the forest, Hagrid's wails. Ginny's scream, Neville's speech. It's all the same. Until it's all different.

" _Draco_! Come here." Lucius tells his son, who in the real world begrudgingly walks across the courtyard to his unloving father. In this nightmare, however, he doesn't move

"Draco." Narcissa pleads in a way only a mother could. "come."

But through a crack in my eye, I can see the blonde standing his ground on the light side.

"No." He says, causing an uproar from the Death Eaters, who look terrified at Voldemort, who looks mildly intrigued.

"YOU ARE A DEATH EATER!" Lucius roars, eyes blazing with fury, and his wand raised. "YOU HAVE THE DARK MARK! OUR LORD'S MARK!" Draco swallows harshly  
  
"I never asked for it. I was forced to get it." He says, getting gasps from Death Eaters and D.A members alike. "In fact, I was forced to do a lot of things I didn't want to do-"

" _Draco_!" Lucius says sharply, but Draco ignores him.

"I was forced to become you, father. I was forced into Slytherin. I was forced to follow your every order, no matter how tainted and evil they were. I was made to hate people of mixed blood, just because they come from different upbringings. I was forced to look down on those with less money, no matter how noble they were..." Draco turns to me, my squinted eyes not giving away that I'm still alive. "I was forced to hate Harry Potter. Harry, who is-" he stumbles over his words before continuing. "was- the strongest, brightest, bravest, and most selfless man I knew." Draco turns back to the Death Eaters.

"So I stand behind him. I will finish his job myself if I have to." Draco finishes, raising his own wand and pointing it at Voldemort, who just laughs maniacally.

"You had your chance, boy." Voldemort smiles. Honest to God smiles, and points his wand right back at the blonde wizard. "Avada Kedavra" he says, casting the deadly spell straight at Draco, and hits him squarely in the chest, knocking him backwards.

"NOOO!" Shrieks Narcissa, who is being held back by Lucius.

Another person is screaming too. And I think it's me.

-

"Harry!" Ron says, shaking me awake.

I sit bolt upright, nearly head butting Ron in the process. My shirt is drenched with sweat, and I'm shaking. My throat is raw from screaming.

I breathe heavily, not trusting myself to talk.

"I-I..." Is all I can get out. Ron pulls me into a side hug.

"It's okay. Whatever that dream was about, it's over now." He says, softly. I swallow thickly, and nod.

"Thanks." I croak, before Ron is satisfied enough with my comfort to return to his own bed.

 _'I must have forgotten to cast the muffliato charm tonight..._ ' I think as I bury myself up to my chin in the silky red blankets on my bed.

The dream rushes through my head, and I try to hang onto the details before they fade into the oblivion of my mind. Draco's dead and limp form doesn't leave me, and tears prick the back of my eyes.

My throat is raw and stiff still, and it aches for water, but I can't peel myself out of the cocoon of warmth to get any.

Those grey, lifeless eyes staring at nothing, but everything at once kill me. The dreams don't usually affect me this way. They usually fade into the back of my mind with the rest of my traumatic life, but this stands out.

Blonde hair, splayed across the ground.

Pale hands, one gripping a wand, the other twisted under his back.

Grey eyes, staring into space.

And for some reason, the memory sticks.

-t.s-

The next morning, I wake up to Dean and Neville talking about chocolate frog cards, Seamus still sleeping, and Ron pulling a shirt over his head.

"Hey guys..." I say sheepishly. They all face me. "Sorry if I woke you guys up last night..."

They look at me with understanding. Not pity, but understanding.

"It's okay, Harry. You're more qualified than anyone to have nightmares. You DIED man." Dean says, sauntering over to me and clapping me on the back with a small smile. "I think it's okay for you to wake up screaming once in a while."  
  
"Don't worry about it, mate." Ron says, yawning.

"Honestly, it's not like it's the first time." Neville says, pulling on his cloak.

"What?" I say, shooting a look at Ron, who stares at his hands.

"Well, yeah. Ron told us not to tell you though. Said it was a trigger-" Neville's eyes widen. "Uhh... sorry Ron." He quickly apologizes, and walks out of the room. I look right at Ron again, who is looking everywhere but at me.

"I thought you were going to tell if I said those things again." I say. He scratches the back of his neck.

"I mean... it had been a while... you hadn't said anything since the beginning of October." He says, standing up. I've gotten up too, and started pulling on my clothes and walking toward the door. He grabs my arm. "You're hardly talking English anymore during them. What am I supposed to do? I can't understand you... You're talking mostly..." His eyes travel the my forearm, which is revealed by my pushed up sleeve. His eyes lock onto something. I look down confused, until I see exactly what it is he's staring at. "Parseltongue..." He breathes. I wrench my arm out of his grip, and run down the stairs, pulling down my sleeve.

"Idiot, idiot!" I chide at myself, taking the stairs two at a time.

"Harry! HARRY!" Ron is yelling behind me. I tear through the common room to get to the portrait hole.

My friends look at me in confusion as I push through them.

"HARRY!" Ron yells. "SOMEONE GET HIM!" He yells at the other Gryffindors.

Hands grab at my robes and my arms, eventually entrapping me.

"Ugh!" I grunt, trying to break free of the prying hands.

"Harry, just calm down. What did you do?" A voice that I recognize as Hermione's.

"N-nothing... just let go!" I struggle against her and some other seventh and sixth years, the rest of the house staring in awe at us. Ron walks up to me, his face contorted in fear and fury.

"Why. Would. You. Do. That?" He asks me, tears glistening in his eyes, punctuating every word with a slap to my face, not extremely hard, but still leaving a sting.  
  
"Ah! Ron!" I say, my arms still constricted by my friends. "STOP! IT'S NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL!" I scream at him.  
  
"SHUT UP! HOW IS THIS NOT A BIG DEAL?!?" He screams back, his spit flying. Hermione's grip loosens on my arm, and I wrench it free. The buzzing starts in the back of my head, but I push it down with every force I have. "HOW IS IT NOT A BIG DEAL THAT YOU CUT?" Ron screams, and the room quiets. You could hear a pin drop, it's so silent.

My breathing is heavy, and all eyes are on me. My heart is beating a billion miles an hour, but my feet don't seem to want to move. Hermione pulls up my sleeve, and shrieks when she sees my arm.

And

It's

All

Too

Much.

I break free of the group, and run through the portrait hole, the buzzing in my head almost takes over, but I can't let it.

I find myself in the hall near the astronomy tower when I can't stop the blackout from taking over.

_'They deserve it. Kill them. Kill him...'_

 


End file.
